I don’t know why I’m doing this.
Amelia suggested it. Said it would help cuz I’ve kind of been struggling since Jackson moved home. We had a great summer on the ranch, hanging out with his sisters and Alex and building the house, but it was bittersweet. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I was leaving and he wasn’t. He’s only a few hours away but it might as well be the other side of the world.
I’m being dramatic, I know. We see each other at least once a month, and we talk practically every minute of the day, but after three straight months of being together nonstop, it feels… wrong? Yeah, being apart feels wrong. I don’t know.
Maybe I’m just a clingy bitch.
But yeah, anyway, Amelia says writing shit like this down helps. Her therapist suggested it to her and Dr Resnick is basically God in Amelia’s eyes, and Nick’s, so I thought I’d give it a go. I did some research and apparently, it’s good for people with ADHD too. Helps you process emotions and big events and shit like that.
I don’t know. We’ll see. I’ll give it a try, I guess.
It can’t hurt.
I saw him on campus today.
Just for a moment, in passing, when I was on the way to class. It was… weird. How apathetic I felt. Considering all the anger and hurt and betrayal I’ve felt in the past, it was odd to feel nothing for once. I might as well have been walking past a stranger.
The only speck of emotion occurred when I clocked his ring-free finger, and that was pride because fuck yeah, Jennifer. It took longer than it should’ve because Professor Jacobs is a dick and he fought her every step of the way but she made good on her promise to divorce his sorry ass.
She doesn’t look at me that way anymore. The sad way. The way that kind of makes her look like she’s in pain. Now, there’s nothing but warmth in her gaze. She calls me Pen’s sister and she calls Pen and I ‘her girls.’
I’m glad I don’t hurt her anymore.
Speaking of Pen, she was with me when we saw the sperm donor. As much as he didn’t react to me, he didn’t even blink an eye at Pen either. I know Pen tries not to care but I could tell it crushed her a little. She hates the man, she hates what he did, but he’s still her dad. I know it’s hard for her to connect the man who raised her with the cheating asshole he turned out to be. She’s coping though. She’s got me and her mom and my mom to help her through it.
Kind of a fucking power team, to be honest.
Alex has gotten huge.
Six months old and still an angel.
We spent Christmas on the ranch, all of us, even Cass. I think that was the longest he’s spent in one place since graduating. He’s kind of hot shit now, which is weird. We went out for dinner in town one night and got papped which is even fucking weirder. The next day our faces were splashed across the front of some stupid tabloid, the highlight being a picture of Cass cradling Alex and the headline wondering who the MLB’s newest star pitcher knocked up.
We checked on the house’s progress too. It’s almost time to start painting and decorating and doing all the fun shit and I can’t fucking wait. Ma’s already made a million things, from paintings to vases to mugs to those weird little decorative ceramic bowls that aren’t big enough to have an actual use but they’re cute and they kind of make a place feel lived in.
I’m excited, I’m really fucking excited, to make that building site into a home.
Our home.
We did a walkthrough of the finished house today. Electrical, plumbing, all that shit is done now. The fun can start. Well, kind of fun, kind of incredibly fucking stressful. I don’t know if it looks bigger because it’s empty but the place is fucking enormous. Like, excessively so. Like, more rooms than we can fill. It almost feels wrong, the two of us owning something so extravagant but I love it, I really do.
Modern farmhouse, I think Pinterest would call it.
It creeps me out a little, being all blank and empty and echoey inside, but Jackson promised the next time I’m there it’ll be a little livelier.
I wish I could stay there all the time. I’m so fucking close to being done with college. I don’t know what I’m going to do after but I’m leaning towards taking a year off to figure it out. UCSV has a JD program that I’m looking into. But that’s another three years in Sun Valley and I don’t think I really wanna do that.
Whatever. I’ll figure it out. It’s not like I’m in a rush.
I’m a college graduate.
A miracle, really, considering how much of a fucking ride the last couple of years have been. I can’t believe I did it.
Shit, I’m kind of proud of myself.
It was a bittersweet day. We had to pack up the house, for real this time. Ben’s moving in with some other friends for his senior year, Pen’s moving in with her new boyfriend, so it was time to actually say goodbye. We all had a little cry.
But we got to move into our house. God, I love it. I love it so fucking much. Jackson was right about brightening it up; he did all the painting himself and every inch of the house has a little touch of his handiwork. I can tell Line has been here because there are fresh flowers everywhere, and Lux must’ve popped in to stock the fridge at some point. They’re nowhere to be seen now though.
I’m glad because we plan on thoroughly christening every inch of this place.
Fuck.
Fuckity fuck fuck.
We have royally fucked up.
Two months.
My IUD was taken out two fucking months ago. It needed to be replaced and I put off getting a new one because the fucker hurt like a bitch going in the first time, and coming out, and I was hyping myself up to go through that again.
I took the pill while I made up my mind.
We used condoms.
And he still managed to knock me up.
Motherfucker.
Now I wish I’d sucked it up because God knows what’s coming out of me next is going to hurt a fuck ton more than an IUD.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. This wasn’t the plan. Jackson’s going to freak out. No, that’s a lie, he’s going to remain calm and levelheaded and pragmatic while I freak the fuck out.
We can’t have a baby. We already have a baby; the ranch. And for fuck’s sake, we’re practically still babies.
I’ve got options. I’m pretty sure it’s still early so I’ve definitely got options.
I just… I don’t know.
I don’t fucking know.
I saw your heartbeat today.
Strong like your mom, is what your dad said. He cried, like he does at every single appointment, just like he cried when I told him about you. He went white as a sheet and then he cried and then I cried and he held me and he told me whatever I wanted to do, he would be there for me. I’d already decided by then, and I knew that no matter what he would support me, but hearing it made me cry harder anyways.
He’s so fucking proud of you already, little guy.
You kicked for the first time last week and he practically threw a party, and then you threw a fist at my kidney and he claimed you were practicing your pitch. I swear, he’s going to be unbearable when you pop out in a few months. Which you need to do gently and on time, by the way, because you’re going to be stuck with me for a really long time and starting our life together by pissing me off is not a good idea. Just ask your dad.
We figured it out, how we’re going to make it work. I found a part-time program, two nights in person a week, the rest of it online. You’ll be here at the start of summer, I can start classes in the fall. And your dad, Jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so happy to be a stay-at-home dad, ever.
We love you so much already.
Even when you use my organs as squeeze-toys.
Okay, I love you, but you need to get the fuck out now.
I’m sick of this. I don’t know what the fuck those people who spout on about the beauty of pregnancy and how they never want it to end have been smoking because I am done.
I haven’t slept in a month. I pee every two seconds. Jackson won’t let me eat sour sweets anymore because they give me heartburn even though everything gives me heartburn lately. And he read some article about how some types of herbal teas are bad for pregnant women and now I can’t even have a cup without him giving me this stupid fucking pouty face of disapproval. And god, I’m sore. So sore. I can’t remember what it feels like to be comfortable.
So please, little guy. Please get out.
I’m a mom.
Weird.
If you’d told me a couple of years ago that I would be the first in our friend group to become a mom, I would’ve laughed until I vomited. My money was on Amelia. All of ours was, really. Clearly, I didn’t take that Jackson family competitive nature into account.
Isaac’s inherited that shit, I can already tell. Barely six months old and he’s already giving his cousin a run for his money. Alex is obsessed with him, almost as much as Jackson. Lux and I have started calling them the triplets because they’re practically identical, the three of them.
I might be biased but my kid’s the cutest. He looks just like Alex did when he was a baby. Except those big blue eyes, they’re all mine. His hair is a little lighter too, not quite blonde but not quite brown. The perfect mix of the two of us. Thank God because I think I actually would’ve pitched a fit if he came out looking exactly like his dad.
I think I want another one. It’s early, I know, but I love this kid so fucking much, and I see how much Jackson loves him and I want more. I love my boys but a girl would be nice. I’m not picky though.
Anyway. One thing at a time. Should probably do something with the rock on my finger first. I’m pretty powerful but planning a wedding with one kid is hard enough. Two kids might kill me.
One day, though.
I’ll bide my time.
